


Someone to Watch Over Me

by windscryer



Series: crappy day fics [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Cuddling, Everyone Needs A Hug, Flashbacks, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kidnapping, Kissing, M/M, Not Anymore, PTSD, Pets, SHUT UP CLINT, Self-Harm, Slice of Life, Steve Needs a Hug, Suicidal Thoughts, Tony Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Has A Heart, and a bit of plot, does it say stark anywhere on this building, everybody gets pets because avengers, nobody listens to tony, therapy animals, thor loves midgardian pop culture, varying degrees of canon compliance, whoops how did that get in there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-02 05:14:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6552451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windscryer/pseuds/windscryer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony has a strict no pet policy in the tower. Which of course means the place is going to become a zoo.</p>
<p>Dammit, Romanoff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was just supposed to be spitballing about what kinds of pets the Avengers would have and then PLOT happened and idefk I just write what the Muse tells me to. Don't ask me.

The e-mail Tony sent out inviting them to live in the Tower listed very few rules, but there was one that was bolded, underlined, and required you to acknowledge it before you could reply: _**ABSOLUTELY NO PETS OF ANY KIND.**_

This rule was reiterated as part of the welcome tour and also slipped into conversation frequently with varying degrees of subtlety the first few weeks they were all there.

(It probably would have worked too, if not for Natasha.)

* * *

Steve wasn't actually sure how long she had them before she came to movie night with a quartet of little blue and white parakeets on her shoulders.

Tony was clearly torn between making a joke about her being a Disney princess, reminding her about the rule, and wanting to keep his favorite body parts intact. One of the birds climbed up her hair like a ladder and stared him down like he was considering taking Tony’s eye out on principle and he just shut his mouth and walked away.

The birds made occasional appearances in public areas after that and they had the run of Natasha’s floor, perches in every room, some built right into the walls, others on ornate stands that were as much art as practical. The smallest one, a sweetheart with thin black bars on her wings and a chirp so high it was sometimes hard to hear, often came flying in to greet anyone who stepped off the elevator. She would land on a shoulder or head or—if offered—a finger, and chirp a greeting, then fly back to find Natasha and announce your arrival.

Steve found the biggest, a surly brute that made more of a growl than a chirp named Dmitriy, on the common floor by himself one day and tried to take him home. He lost a chunk of the skin between his thumb and finger for his efforts.

(Dmitriy was the reason Steve now had mag clamps for the shield on his right glove as well as his left.)

* * *

The next violation of the rule came after a battle with some AIM flunkies with a badly rebuilt Extremis knockoff. That was actually less fighting and more just containing them until they inevitably went boom. The chatter on comms was unusually sparse and not nearly as flippant, especially from Tony. 

When Hulk showed up, after helping with search and rescue in an empty warehouse that had been a favorite spot of the local homeless population, with a tiny white kitten with soot smeared all over its long fur, Steve expected Tony to lay down the hard line and maybe even actually yell at the big green guy, but he said nothing.

The next time Steve went to see if Tony was hiding in Bruce’s lab to avoid his reminder that Phil needed their reports, he instead found a much cleaner kitten curled around a steaming mug of tea, tail covering the notebook Bruce was trying to write on.

Saṃsāra had full run of the Tower, though she rarely used it, more inclined to follow Bruce wherever he went, a tiny, fluffy, low-flying cloud at his heels. She and Dmitriy could not be left in the same room without supervision or there would be blood.

(Usually Clint’s.)

* * *

Thor came back from a trip to Asgard with a pair of what he SWORE were commonly kept house pets there, but Thor was never going to win at poker for a reason. So now there were two… Well, they looked like small dinosaurs. Meat-eater types, specifically.

Tony made a sort of despairing sound of resignation when one of them jumped up on the table and stole his pizza at dinner, but he also spent the better part of the weekend working on chew toys that could stand up to their teeth.

(Clint took Thor out to buy leashes and collars since even the Avengers couldn’t get away with having pets in violation of the city’s laws and came back with a bag full of stuff that Steve was pretty sure wasn’t for Blue and Reptar.)

* * *

Tony watched Clint leave for his jog a week later with a dog missing its left eye and his only question was whether Fury got himself turned into a dog somehow and Clint got stuck with pet-sitting duties.

Clint replied that the only way he would be assigned to pet-sit Fury as a dog was if literally everyone else in SHIELD had been killed, and that he and Lucky would be back in an hour if anyone wanted donuts.

(Tony was on the wrong side of his day, but he stayed awake until Clint got back and fed Lucky all of the bacon off of Steve’s plate.)

* * *

Steve considered getting a pet more than once since the rule had obviously been repealed, but he wasn’t sure “everyone else has one” was a good reason. Even if Sam tried to convince him it was while cutting raw chicken breast into strips for Redwing. The hawk fluffed its feathers and gave a screech of agreement, but that wasn’t enough to convince Steve.

Sam continued his attempts at persuasion as Redwing ate, citing the benefits with the other veterans he’d worked with.

“Animal companions are one of the most successful helps I’ve seen. And it’s not like I haven’t seen the baggies you keep in your pocket full of food you have no intention of eating. People quitting smoking, the elderly, and 5 year olds carry candy in their pockets, Steve. You’ve got Beggin’ Strips, dried salmon bites, and birdseed on you _all. The. Time._ ”

When he was done, Redwing screeched at the ceiling and JARVIS opened the pane in the window Tony had installed as soon as Sam confirmed he was coming to New York to stay.

(Steve still wasn't sold on the idea.)

* * *

He did get a dog for Bucky, though, after he was released from SHIELD observation with a clean bill of health and a bunch of trackers and bugs sewn into all of the clothing they’d given him.

They threw the contents of the duffel into a series of dumpsters as they walked across town to a municipal building for their appointment. They came out an hour later with a black Sharpei-Brittany Spaniel mix who had more leg than brains but who had served honorably as a courthouse dog for five years before being retired.

Steve couldn’t deny Sam was right about how much General seemed to help Bucky, but that didn’t mean he was going to get one himself, no matter how many significant looks Sam gave him.

He got so used to seeing the two of them together, though, that the day Bucky walked into the common area without his shadow Steve sat up in concern from where he’d been sprawled on the couch watching a movie. Bucky waved it off and made a joke about being mentally sound enough to get food without an escort.

An hour later Steve cracked his eyes open to see General enter the room and jump up into Bucky’s lap like he wasn't 55 pounds of fur. Bucky patted his head and asked quietly if his mission was successful. General woofed softly and the noise from the kitchen eventually turned into Tony shuffling into the room with a plate.

He looked terrible, eyes still red and puffy and mouth set in a grim slash framed by lines even his goatee couldn’t hide. His hands were trembling and his shoulders looked like they had lead weights attached to them, but he just sat between Steve and Bucky and reached out to stroke General’s head when it landed on his thigh.

(He passed out not long after eating and didn’t wake up for the rest of the movie, his hand resting between furry black ears.)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This thing was a mixed bag of tenses all over the place and it's way too early to be properly conjugating verbs, so if you find one I missed, do let me know. Or, you know, just pad my ego and tell me what you liked about it without a grammar check. ~_^


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get worse before they get better. Because when don't they?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so tired it took me ten minutes to figure out why the rich text editor wasn't working (spoiler: it's because I was clicking rather maniacally on the "HTML editor" button. -_-;) but I actually forgot I was supposed to post this and I don't want to get distracted tomorrow and forget again. So here you go. Huzzah! \o/
> 
> (Also, this chapter is the reason for some of the warnings in the tags. Read with caution if that's a concern for you, my darlings.)

Tony and Steve toured Europe nearly four years after the Battle of New York, talking to various national leaders and governments about the Avengers and how best to facilitate things when supervillainy spread beyond America’s borders.

Apparently it was long overdue, because somewhere in France—Steve’s pretty sure he’d been there before, but not by car and not in this millennium—an ambush was waiting for them and everything went to hell in a hand basket.

Steve had his hands full dealing with Tony’s flashbacks to the last time he was in a convoy and things started exploding. One of the first casualties the enemy managed was the Iron Man briefcase armor. Steve was just grateful Tony wasn’t inside when the EMP grenade hit.

They were thrown down the stairs into a wine cellar for their prison and, in the little light they had, he could see Tony eyeing the stacked barrels like they were going to roll over and suck him in.

After the fifth night terror when Tony woke up shrieking and started trying to claw through the walls bare-handed, Steve wrapped himself around his teammate and refused to budge. He was pretty sure there were no more incidents because Tony refused to fall asleep after that.

The next time food was delivered and they were assured they were going to die if SHIELD didn't cooperate, Steve could see progressively more vicious bruises and scratches covering Tony’s arms where he had been pinching and clawing to keep himself awake.

Steve started talking because he needed to get Tony out of his head before he ended up being the next casualty to this whole ordeal. They talked about literally anything that came to Steve’s mind—except of course  why they were still here when SHIELD obviously knew what was going on—and in a week Steve learned more than he had living in the same building with Tony and fighting evil on a regular basis.

He’d also shared more about himself than probably anyone alive knew. Well, besides Bucky on a good day.

* * *

 The morning the door cracked open three hours late for breakfast and it was Clint and Bucky instead of their usual guard, they were curled up in a corner. Steve had wrapped himself around Tony like he was a favorite teddy bear he was afraid would be stolen. Tony clung to Steve, too, but given the circumstances, no one was going to judge.

Tony stayed close to Steve, though, and—after the SHIELD medic pronounced him well enough and gave him a water bottle, a couple of power bars, and a blanket—Tony shuffled over to stand in front of Steve’s seat on the Quinjet. Bucky immediately rose and made excuses about having a question for Natasha, and Tony settled into the empty seat. He didn't even hesitate to lean over, sighing contentedly when Steve lifted his arm to snug it around his shoulders.

Steve expected Tony to disappear into his workshop—the walls blanked and the music loud enough to get through even the soundproofing—as soon as they landed and not come out for days.

He did not expect Tony to ask Bucky where General was and if he could borrow the dog for a little while.

Tony still disappeared into the workshop, but the windows were clear and the music was (mostly) low. Every time Steve came by with food, Tony was working on the couch, a blanket around his shoulders. Sometimes General was in his lap, dozing under Tony’s constantly moving fingers.

He immediately dismissed whatever he was doing when Steve entered, but he ate and he talked and sometimes he quietly stared off into the distance. He’d blink and come back to the conversation when prodded, though, so Steve could hardly complain about unhealthy behaviors.

* * *

 Two weeks after their rescue, they went back to France with the team to clear out the remnants of the Hydra base that had escaped capture.

Tony didn't fly back to the Tower after, but JARVIS reported his safe arrival in Malibu at his house there. When Steve asked how he was doing, Tony popped up in a window and assured Steve he was fine. He did look well enough, mostly tired and with that lingering edge he’d acquired.

“How long are you planning to stay out there?” Steve asked, then immediately wished he hadn’t. If he pushed too hard, Tony would pull back more.

But Tony shrugged and looked down at the tablet in his hands. “A week, maybe? Pepper’s been bugging me to come visit the factory here again. But we have that Avengers PR thing next Tuesday, so definitely no later than that.”

“All right,” Steve said, relieved to hear that. Probably more than he should be. “Well, then I’ll see you next week.”

“Yeah, of course,” Tony said. But he didn't hang up and the hesitation on his face made Steve do the same. “And, uh, if you need to, you know, talk or anything, I’ll be… The factory won’t take up that much time and I’ll have my phone. So.” His face twitched and his gaze didn’t quite meet Steve’s.

Steve smiled and the last little bit of worry uncurled in his gut. “Okay. And, uh, ditto. I’ll have my phone if you need…” He shrugged.

Tony smiled. “Careful there. I might _need_ to ask you stupid questions at two in the morning.”

Steve laughed. “I can’t guarantee you won’t get a stupid answer that early, but, sure. If you _need_ to.”

Tony laughed bright and loud before signing off and the warm glow lingered in Steve’s chest until he fell asleep.

* * *

 Steve did his best to keep busy the rest of the week—which wasn’t hard when Sam stepped up his “get Steve a pet” campaign. He ended up spending a lot of time out of the Tower and so he wasn’t there when Tony got back on Saturday afternoon.

That was a problem for Tony.

Unless there was another reason why Iron Man was striding through the MOMA yelling “Steve?” and stopping to ask awestruck tourists if they’d seen him around.

“Tony?” Steve said, circling around a sculpture. Two teenage girls looked like they were about to pee themselves with excitement as they repeated “OH MY GOD!” about a thousand times to the fiercely glaring red and gold mask that towered over them.

“Steve?” Tony responded, whirling around. The girls spotted him now too and the squealing reached an even higher pitch. Tony left them behind to cross the floor, the faceplate sliding up and his eyes raking up and down as if to verify Steve wasn’t injured while looking at art.

“Are you— I mean, of course you’re okay, _calm down, Stark_ ,” he muttered. “You just weren’t at the Tower and no one knew where you were and—” He bit off the rest and drank in the sight of Steve once more, then sighed. “Sorry,” he said, looking around at the crowd they were gathering. “I didn’t mean to—”

Steve put a hand on his arm, the metal cool under his fingertips. He ignored the disappointment that it wasn't warm, soft skin instead. “It’s fine, Iron Man.” Tony’s brow furrowed. “I shouldn’t have stepped out without letting someone know where I was going and making you hunt me down. Let’s go,” he continued, heading for the door. “You can brief me on the way.”

Tony followed, still looking slightly confused, but didn't say anything until they were outside and lifting off into the sky, Steve balanced on the tips of Tony’s toes.

“There’s not actually a mission or anything. You didn’t have to leave early because I… you know, freaked out.”

“Who says I did? You just saved me a ride back on the subway.”

Tony barked a laugh and turned toward the Tower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS STORY IS COMPLETELY WRITTEN. The chapter count changed because I decided one tiny chapter and one HUGE chapter was a bad idea. I left the count open ended because I'm not sure how or if I want to actually split the last chunk. When I publish the next chapter I'll know and update it accordingly with a final count.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony gives up on his no pet policy, feelings are everywhere, and kissing! So much kissing. ^_^

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter. There was no really good place to break it up and that's the best reason to leave it whole!
> 
> Heads up: Some of the warnings apply to this chapter. Catharsis feels great afterward, but it's not pretty in the middle of it. Take care of yourselves, darlings.

Steve stepped down when Tony landed on the platform and went to walk into the penthouse while Tony followed the disassembly gauntlet, but was stopped by either a very large tabby cat or a very small tiger growling ominously at him. Either way, Steve had no doubt those glistening fangs could—and more importantly  _ would _ —rip out his jugular given even a shadow of a reason.

“Uhh, Tony?” Steve said, afraid to move lest he provoke an attack.

“Cthulhu, sit.”

The roll of thunder subsided as the feline slowly lowered itself to the ground in a ready crouch and licked its chops.

Menacingly so, if Steve had to put a name to it.

“You named it Cthulhu?” Steve asked. He stepped to the side so Tony could move past and finish de-arming, but even that got him a snarl so he didn't move any further into the building.

“No, she came with that name. She’s got spirit,” Tony said, in the same way one might say, “My daughter was accepted to be an astronaut!”

“I didn’t even know you could train cats,” Steve said. Then he added, “It is a cat, right? It’s kind of… big.”

“Cthulhu,” Tony said, kneeling down next to the ginger mountain of fur and stroking the backs of two fingers between flattened ears. They eased up into a more alert posture at his touch, and the eyes took on a glassy unfocus. “This is Steve. Steve is friend. We like Steve.” He put his arm out and Cthulhu sniffed it thoroughly before stepping onto it and climbing up to Tony’s shoulder. She settled with her front paws on his head and didn't so much as blink when Tony stood up straight again.

Now she was looking down at him and Steve could swear she smirked at this change in position before looking away at the wall in apparent disinterest.

He had no doubts that she was still paying him her full attention, though, ready to strike again if she decided he deserved it.

“Yes, she is a cat, a Maine Coon, to be precise,” Tony said. “And cats are absolutely trainable. You just have to make it worth their while.” He shrugged and Cthulhu rode it out like a seasoned sailor on a rolling ocean.

“I thought there were no pets in the Tower,” was the only thing Steve could think to say.

He glanced down soon enough to catch Tony biting his lip and the way his gaze flicked away before coming back.

“Well it’s my Tower, isn’t it? That rule hasn’t ever been followed anyway. I think I’m the last person to get a pet in this place.”

“I don’t have one,” Steve said.

Tony didn't answer right away, and when he did his smile was softer than expected. “Well, you should think about it. I hear they’re great for old war heroes.”

Steve blinked. He didn't know what he meant to say, but what came out was, “How does General feel about Cthulhu?”

Tony shrugged again. “They haven’t met yet. We’ve only been here for two hours. She was inspecting the place while I went looking for you.”

Steve pulled out his phone to see if he’d missed a call.

“Uh, no, you didn’t,” Tony said. “I… might not have thought about that being an option,” he admitted, sticking his hands in his pockets. His cheeks had the lightest dusting of pink, but Steve only got to see it for a moment before Cthulhu swept up her magnificent feather duster of a tail and made Tony lurch back and start blowing cat hair out of his face.

“Cthulhu!” he scolded. “Stop it!”

She meowed and leapt down, sauntering off to the couch to sprawl across almost three full cushions.

Steve laughed, that bubble of warmth back in his chest and growing bigger.

He had only a moment to see the look cross Tony’s face, not nearly enough to interpret it or even stop laughing, and then Tony was surging forward, up onto his toes to bring them level. His hands came up to Steve’s cheeks as he leaned in, nose brushing Steve’s a few times before he tilted his head just so and pressed their lips together.

Steve stood stock still for a good three seconds before his brain caught up and by then Tony was pulling back.

“Shit. I’m sorry. I’ve just been thinking about it all week and not even the factory could get it off my mind. I thought maybe I could distract myself and so that’s why I got a cat—I mean, I was thinking about it anyway because I’m not really a dog person and General is Bucky’s companion, but I just thought, what the hell, I’ll never know if I don’t take a chance—with you, not Cthulhu—and it’s fine, you don’t have to do anything. We can just forget it ever happ—”

Steve silenced the rest of Tony’s ridiculous chatter. He was interested in exploring how very wonderful just touching faces, just being close enough to someone else to feel the warmth of their skin could be more intoxicating than any alcohol he’d ever had before or after the serum, but for now he was more interested in picking up where they left off.

It started with lips again, pressing them together, testing firmness and all that, but Steve wasn’t content to settle there now, sucking lightly on Tony’s lower lip until he could run his tongue along it. Tony’s mouth opened on a soft intake of breath and Steve ventured further, sliding into Tony’s mouth and tasting him. There was no hurry now, just the need to be here in this moment, learning Tony. He swept his tongue across the ridged palate and Tony groaned.

Tony returned the favor, licking into Steve and forcing him to retreat for a moment before he rallied. There was a tipping moment where it could go either way, into more intensity, more heat, ratcheting up and driving them to a point Steve wasn’t quite sure about since this was the first Tony had ever indicated he so much as thought about Steve beyond teammate and friend, or softening into something sweeter and more gentle, not so much lazy as contented.

Steve was surprised to find he wouldn’t really mind which way things went, but Tony was the one who pulled back, darting in for one last taste, swiping his tongue across Steve’s lower lip and then nudging noses once or twice, lowering his head and withdrawing, but only in spirit.

Steve could still feel the warm places where Tony was touching him, his cheek against Tony’s forehead, his chin and the tip of his nose, Tony’s hands splayed somewhere between Steve’s waist and his hips, fingers flexing like Tony was trying to make himself let go but not quite succeeding.

Steve shifted a bit in place, trying to get his bearings and Tony swayed with him. Steve wasn’t sure how much of it had to do with Steve’s hands on his shoulders, but he wasn’t exactly complaining either.

He should probably say something, he realized. He didn't know what, but any second now he would come up with something. Anything.

“I’m not sure how much time I spent in that wine cellar and how much I spent back in a cave in Afghanistan,” Tony said, head still bowed, resting on Steve’s shoulder.

Steve’s fingers tightened on Tony’s arms, but he still had no words. So he listened.

“I don’t even know how long that whole...  _ thing _ was. I have a vague notion of time passing. Probably. Mostly I remember was wishing that the darkness would just swallow me whole. There was a little bit thinking about cracking open one of those barrels and getting it over with before they could—” His breath stuttered and Steve’s hands moved of their own volition again, sliding down and finding places to rest on Tony’s lower back. His throat bobbed painfully as he tried to swallow around the jagged lump there.

Tony sighed. “I thought about killing myself,” he admitted. “More than once. I just…” He shuddered and Steve rubbed his hands up and down Tony’s back, reminding him he wasn’t alone. “I just didn’t think I could do it again. And they were never going to put me anywhere near anything I could use to escape.”

He sniffed and lifted his head. Glassy eyes found Steve’s and begged him to understand. “I couldn't—” He gritted his teeth and looked away.

Steve pulled him forward until they were pressed chest to chest, wrapping himself around Tony the way he had in that dark basement that smelled of wine and sawdust. He stroked a hand up and down Tony’s spine, the other staying anchored on his hip to ground him. “It’s okay. It’s okay, Tony.”

Tony shook his head. Warm wet spots soaked into Steve’s shirt at the neckline by his shoulder, but Steve just held on.

He knew Tony hadn’t bounced back that quickly. Even with his healthier coping mechanisms, Steve knew it wasn’t that easy. Tony had been nearly catatonic down in that darkness. You didn’t just walk away from that without anything to show for surviving it.

After a much shorter time than expected, Tony pulled back. Steve tried to stop him, but Tony said, “I’m fine. I'm… I just need to breathe, Steve. I’m not going to run away.” He laughed wetly, but it wasn’t bitter.

Steve let him go a little, though he couldn’t quite take his hands off yet. He reached up and cupped Tony’s cheek and smiled when he leaned into the touch, allowed Steve’s thumb to wipe away the tears under his eyes.

“I survived all of that because of you. And I’ve survived a hell of a lot more these last few years. And I don’t expect you to just jump into anything or even return my feelings, but I…” He pushed a hand back through his hair, looking anywhere but at Steve.

“I realized that if I never said anything, I was never going have a chance. And when my choices were reduced to making at least half a dozen predictions about my untimely death come true or  _ you _ , well… Let’s say I gained some clarity.”

Then he waved a hand. “Of course, decisions made under those kinds of situations are never really, you know, rational or ideal, so I used it while we were down there and then I shelved it when we got back. And then we had to go back to France and I…”

He huffed out a breath, shoulders slumping. “I thought about that basement again and that led to thinking about you and… I took a week. To think about it when I wasn’t stressed. And it still seemed like pretty valid logic so I thought… why not?”

He stopped talking and just stood there, twitching a bit every now and again, but seemingly out of words.

Steve felt kind of bad. And a little miffed at Tony. He’d had all this time to mentally prepare for this and Steve had a handful of seconds before Tony convinced himself Steve’s silence meant he had fucked up and he ran for the hills. Or Malibu. Whichever was further.

Then Steve realized that, no, that wasn’t true. He’d had far more than a month to consider how he felt about Tony. If anything,  _ he  _ was the one with the unfair advantage. Now he just had to figure out how to say that without sounding like a lovesick idiot who had been silently pining for one of his best friends but resigned to never saying anything for fear of losing that.

Tony’s eyes went wide. “You are not going to lose anything. Ever. Not if I have a say anyway.”

“Wait, did I say that out loud?“ Steve asked.

Tony barked a laugh. "Yes. Yes, you did.”

Steve felt his cheeks heat and would have groaned in embarrassment, but Tony’s lips were on his again and he was groaning for entirely different reasons.

It was quick, if intense, Tony’s thumbs on his cheeks and his tongue in his mouth, noses bumping, cheeks brushing, and throughout it all, Tony’s eyes on his, watching, measuring, drinking in whatever he saw in Steve’s eyes.

For his part, Steve came away from the encounter very much reassured of Tony’s sincerity.

A meow and pressure against his calves had Steve breaking off and looking down to see Cthulhu twining around his ankles.

Tony rested his head on Steve’s shoulder again and said, “I don’t care how much it cost to train you, I will send you to a nursing home exclusively for old ladies with too many grandchildren if you cockblock me, cat.”

Steve laughed, arms around Tony again. “That might be jumping the gun a bit.”

Tony’s head shot up, panic on his face. “No, of course, I mean— That’s not— I wasn't— I’m not just in this for a quick fling or anything, I swear, I—”

“Tony,” he said, cupping the other man’s face in his hands. He brushed a kiss against his lips because, well, why not? “I’m not saying I don’t agree with you. We are going to have to set some boundaries if she’s going to be like that. I just meant I’d like you to at least buy me dinner first.”

“Oh.” The panic faded, replaced with an entirely different reason for wide eyes. “Well, that I can do. I can… I can do that.”

“Good.” Then he leaned in and added, “Because I’m pretty sure it’s your turn to buy for team dinner tonight.” With that he stepped back and bent to scoop Cthulhu up, ignoring her warning  _ mrowl _ and flipping her on her back to cuddle her. “Come on, Elder Goddess. It’s time to meet the rest of the family.”

Tony’s footsteps didn’t immediately follow, but they did so quickly once he started. He slid into the elevator next to Steve, who let up on the cuddles to allow Cthulhu to settle herself comfortably. She climbed back onto Tony’s head and shoulders, tail twitching with injured dignity.

She changed her mind and climbed onto Steve’s head again by the time they reached the common floor and Sam called out, “Hey hey! Look who finally got a pet!”

Everyone, furry, feathered, leather and skin alike, turned and looked at them as they stepped out.

Steve glanced over to see how Tony wanted to handle this and found Tony looking back at him. He smiled and then strode out, letting Steve and Cthulhu follow in his wake this time.

“Apparently I’m not allowed to call him a pet,” Tony said as he grabbed two plates and started loading them up. “Pepper and Congress both said so.”

There was groaning and eye rolling and a ravioli or two flying through the air, but everyone was laughing and smiling.

Maybe Sam was right after all, Steve thought, reaching up to scratch Cthulhu’s chest. Companions really did make life better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone who commented, kudosed, bookmarked, or even read this all the way through!


End file.
